


Doctor's Orders

by apollos



Series: Use Your Body [2]
Category: South Park
Genre: Aftercare, College, Exhibitionism, Face Slapping, Light BDSM, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 19:28:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14600103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollos/pseuds/apollos
Summary: Tweek comes home from therapy with a list of ways to calm down. One of them intrigues Craig. Things get out of hand.





	Doctor's Orders

**Author's Note:**

> my therapist keeps giving me these lists of good ways to calm down/distract myself and instead of like, working on my mental health i wrote awful creek porn about it ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Snow fell outside the window heavily and steadily. Craig was sitting on the couch of his and Tweek's tiny, poorly-heated apartment with a mug of tea in his hands. He was wearing gloves, it was so cold inside, afraid to look at their thermostat. The television was on and he was watching the weather channel—Craig loved the weather channel. Tweek hated it and makes fun of him for it, but Craig liked the monotony. And, sometimes, they aired these really great documentaries about natural disasters. They made Tweek nervous, so Craig watched them alone or with Clyde, whenever Clyde was crashing at their house on his homeless couch-surfing rotation.

Clyde was not here today. He left last week, actually, so they had a while as he cycled through all their other friends before he came back. Token always let him stay the longest.

The weather channel went on and on about the typical mid-February storm and Craig sipped his tea. It was the early evening, nearing five, and he was waiting for Tweek to get back from his on-campus therapy session. He felt bad, thinking about Tweek walking through this weather. The reason they chose this shitty apartment was its proximity to campus yet surprising cheapness, and between this terrible heating system and the rats they heard in the walls every once in a while, Craig was starting to understand the supposedly great deal they got.

He heard Tweek's key in the door and his heart picked up. He turned the television off and stood up, a blanket around his shoulders. He felt like Tweek was about to catch him watching porn, or something, but it was just the weather channel. Also, Tweek'd caught him watching porn plenty of times, and they often watched it together. Mostly it was just that Craig was dying to see Tweek, today, if for his body heat alone.

Tweek came in the door with snow in his hair and dusting the shoulders of his coat. Craig put his tea on the coffee table and hurried to him, taking him into his arms before he could take off his coat or put his backpack down. He was freezing, the tip of his nose an iceberg against Craig's collarbone.

"Tweek!" Craig exclaimed. "Did you—are you alright? Let me see your hands." Tweek never wore gloves, no matter how much Craig nagged him, and Craig worried constantly about frostbite. But when he looked at Tweek's fingertips they were as perfect as always. Craig raised them to his lips, kissed each one.

Tweek turned a deep shade of red, a blush across his cheeks, and Craig didn't know if it was from the cold or form his kisses. He was wrong on both accounts—Tweek jerked from him and threw his backpack at the ground, snow flying in a miniature blizzard. Tweek was red because he was mad.

"The stupid fucking bullshit therapist gave me a stupid fucking bullshit list," Tweek spat. He crouched down and pulled a paper from the front pocket of his backpack. He read off it to Craig:  _"Things to do to distract yourself._ Check this out:  _chew ice._ How is chewing ice supposed to make me stop seeing things?!"

Craig took the list from Tweek's hand. "This is about panic attacks," he said, because in the top right there was text that said  _FOR PANIC ATTACKS._

Tweek groaned. He undid the buttons on his coat as angrily as possible, and Craig tried not to smile. He knew Tweek was actually angry, and he knew the therapist on campus was actually stupid and bullshit, but the therapist was  _free_ and  _close_. Regardless, when Tweek was angry, he was fucking adorable. Especially when he wasn't angry at Craig. Like a small guinea pig, upset that Craig had missed the feeding time by five minutes. That was what Tweek looked like, standing so much shorter than Craig, with his hair damp and half-matted-down from the snow, his nose and cheeks red, eyes narrowed, wearing one of Craig's sweaters, fury rolling off of him like palpable and needed heat. He turned his attention back to the list. "One of these is  _have sex_ ," Craig said. "Another is  _masturbate_. That seems kind of inappropriate for a therapist to suggest."

Tweek scoffed. "At least those  _work_!" he said, now taking off his boots. Craig wondered if Tweek would strip down naked if they stand in the doorway long enough. That was appealing, so he reached around Tweek to shut the door that he'd left open. "But look at the other things.  _Knit._ Fucking knit! Or  _reorganize your work space._ Or  _take a walk._ In this snow?"

"That must be for people who live in Florida."

Tweek made another disbelieving noise. There went the socks. "And then, he just wanted to talk about my  _mother_ the whole time. What a fucking cliché! He's like, three thousand years old, so it makes  _sense_ that he hasn't learned anything new since Freud, but  _still_!"

"What's wrong with your mom?" Craig asked. He thought she was nice. She baked him his favorite cookies, a recipe that had been in Tweak's family for generations, cookies so good they didn't even make them for the shop.

"Nothing, that's the point!" Socks off, and now the scarf, and Tweek stood still. That disproved Craig's hypothesis.

"You seem to need to calm down, now," Craig said. He threw the paper to the floor—where it belonged, truthfully—and hurried to say before Tweek could start arguing with him, "so, like, let's have sex."

Tweek's face twisted from indignation to incredulity, his eyes widening. He threw his head back and laughed. "That  _is_ ," he said, struggling to get his words out, "the worst pick-up line  _ever_!"

Craig laughed, too, though in smaller bursts, eager about the sex thing. "That's my specialty," he said. It was. When they'd lost their virginity to each other in their freshman year of high school—God, they'd been  _so young_ , and that was how Craig excused this incredibly embarrassing moment to himself—he'd asked Tweek through an elaborate roleplay as Feldspar the Thief. It involved kidnapping. He cringed from the memory, even though Tweek always brought it up with fondness.

"Alright," Tweek said. He sighed and pushed a hand through his damp hair. "Yeah, let's fuck. That'll calm me down. The one good thing on the list."

"Don't forget the masturbation," Craig said, taking the half-step he needed to take so he could push Tweek against the door and ravage him. He also took off the dumb gloves off he'd been wearing. "Want me to fuck you right here?" he asked, bending down to whisper it in Tweek's ear. "Against the door? People walking down the hall will be able to hear."

Tweek's eyes slid behind their lids and pride filled Craig's chest, stupid, macho, ancient pride—only he could turn Tweek's mood like this, like a coin in his palm, flip it from hysterical to calm. They joked sometimes that Craig's cock was the best medicine off the market, which was awful and inappropriate but Tweek came up with it, so Craig thought it was probably okay.

While Craig was thinking about that and also trying to kiss Tweek, Tweek slid down, like a melting snowman. Without his breath against Craig's lip Craig became aware of how cold it was, and then immediately forgot it as Tweek pushed Craig's sweatpants down. He wasn't wearing anything underneath, of course, and Tweek took him in his mouth immediately. Craig groaned and put both hands against the wall, leaning over. With the blanket still around his shoulders and his height, he created a sort of cave around Tweek.

"Jesus," Craig said. Tweek's mouth was so warm, the air so cold, the temperature difference making his head spin. Tweek took him down his throat—a practice they had perfect over the last eight or so years of blowjobs—and started to hum, the vibrations racking up Craig's dick to his ribs. He felt like a xylophone.

From some thinking part of his brain, buried underneath the arousal and lust and desire to bring Tweek up and kiss his lips until they exploded and fuck him until they  _both_ exploded—curiosity bubbled up. He rolled his head against the door and stared out the peephole.

The hallway was empty, which was to be expected—and then Craig saw somebody. Somebody he knew. The pair of girls that lived in the hall across from them, roommates. They must be getting back from campus; he could hear them talking and laughing as they approached their door.

"There's somebody there," Craig whispered. It was sort of ridiculous—they couldn't see  _him_ , obviously—but thrilling all the same, the logical part of his brain getting buried faster and faster, his heartbeat increasing with the same speed. It reminded him of the way he felt in the early, hazy, lusty days with Tweek, trying out everything they could think of, heads dizzy with possibilities and half-formed, erotic plans. "Get up here."

Tweek popped off Craig's cock and Craig hitched instinctively, trying to find the warmth again. Tweek pushed Craig back so he could connect their mouths, his lips fat and wet. Craig kissed him hard, pressing him as far into the door as he thought the door could take. In their cramped entryway, barely half a foot for them to move on either side, Craig wrapped his arms and the old, woven blanket around Tweek, kissing him as hard as he could. He wanted Tweek to be naked very badly, and he started to work on that. He began with the sweater, trying to pull it over his head and keep them pressed together as much as possible—the second of separation as it came over Tweek's head just about broke his heart—and then his pants, his boxers, and Tweek stepped out of them and kicked them off to the side. Craig loved this, love having Tweek naked and lithe beneath him while Craig was still clothed, providing a blanket of literal and metaphorical warmth. Loved that they could hear the girls across from them approaching their door, unlocking, talking, as Craig stuck his fingers in Tweek's mouth to wet them and then went to his asshole, so suddenly seized he could barely remember that Tweek needed prep.

Tweek screamed when Craig thrust his fingers in him a little too roughly—but Tweek liked it rough, on occasion—and they stilled, suddenly, looking at each other with wide eyes.

"Be as loud as you want," Craig said, finally, bending his knees and thrusting his fingers in deep. He rested his head against the door again and with his free hand, took ahold of Tweek's cock, leaking and ready. "They all know. They all know what we do, right? They all know that you're just my little fuck toy."

Tweek made a choked noise.

"Louder," Craig said as he thrusted in again.

Tweek bit down on his lip to instinctively stifle another scream.

Craig growled a bit. "I'll slap you," he said, lowly. "If you want me to. To help you scream."

Tweek nodded. Craig let go of his cock and cradled Tweek's face in his hand, rubbing the smooth skin of his cheek. "I love you," he said, and Tweek nodded—it was their ritual, their reminder—and then Craig slapped him.

Tweek did scream as he convulsed, trying both to thrust forward and backward at the same time. Craig fought against it, keeping his fingers working, holding Tweek where he had hit him so to dull the pain. It wasn't a scared scream, or a pained scream—it was a sex scream, and Craig knew the difference, and he said, "I bet they all know why you just screamed, huh?" and Tweek whimpered and Craig kissed him.

Tweek pulled his head back from Craig and took one of the hands that had been grasping at Craig's shoulders to touch the other side of his face. "Again," he said, his voice already wrecked, "please," he added.

"You've been raised right," Craig said, unsure of why that was sexy in the moment but it  _was_. "You know your manners." And without preface he slapped Tweek again. He managed to find Tweek's prostate with his other hand as he did, and Tweek came, Craig feeling the splatter on his pants. He kissed Tweek through it, finally withdrawing his hand so he could hold Tweek's face in both.

"Fuck me, now," Tweek said, as simply as if he were asking Craig to do the dishes.

"Mmm," Craig said, pulling back from Tweek. He didn't answer Tweek immediately, instead looking out the peephole. The hallway was empty again. "Not yet," he said.

"Not  _yet_?" Tweek asked, trying to sound as stubborn as possible through his panting and slow sliding down the door. Craig grabbed him to keep him propped up.

"Suck my dick," Craig said. "We're going to wait until somebody else is in that hallway, and only then, will I fuck you. And you're gonna come again while I do it."

Tweek groaned in agreement and Craig let his shoulders loose, letting Tweek slide back down. He was slow and lazy in the start, coming back from the orgasm.

"Hurry the fuck up. And tell me when you get hard again," Craig said. "I want to count it."

Tweek patted Craig's thigh three times, their signal that he heard and agreed to what Craig had asked him when his mouth was otherwise occupied. Craig tangled his hands in Tweek's hair, guiding him to a faster rhythm. He started to thrust as well, letting himself get to the edge before pulling Tweek off completely. He'd done this three times when Tweek said, "Fuck, getting hard, Jesus," in the sex-wrecked voice Craig loved and was always trying to elicit.

Craig looked down for confirmation. He'd nearly forgotten that Tweek was naked, a bolt going through his body at the sight of Tweek on his knees, his hair a mess, spit on his chin. Craig took a second to compose himself and then said, "Two minutes. One of your fastest."

Tweek made a low noise in his throat and leaned forward, nuzzling into the juncture of Craig's thigh. "You're so fucking hot," he said drunkenly, as if that were an explanation.

Craig turned his head up to the ceiling so Tweek could not see him smile and said, "Get back to work." Craig was a terrible dom. He pushed Tweek's head towards his cock.

He kept an eye on the hallway. The girls were in their apartment, but they had three other neighbors he'd be able to see. He knew that the single guy that lived next door to them came home around six, but he didn't know if he'd be able to last an hour of edging, especially now that he was starting to get cold again. He prayed for the sudden appearance of his other neighbors, cock throbbing in Tweek's throat as he swallowed and hummed and flexed his muscles, doing anything he could to get Craig to come.

"Jesus Christ," Craig said after what felt like hours of this, pulling back from Tweek's mouth. "I can't take it. Just get up here." He touched Tweek's shoulder, spread the expanse of his hand over it.

Tweek smiled up at Craig, dazed. "No," he said.

" _No_?" He'd not used the safe word, and Craig knew there had to be more to this.

"There's nobody in the hallway."

Craig's head slumped against the door. "I don't  _care_ ," he said. "I want to fuck you, and I want to fuck you now."

"But you said you wouldn't, until there was somebody in the hallway," Tweek said. He sat back against the door and spread his own knees, cock red and pointing up towards his stomach. Craig wanted to scoop him up and take him to bed.

"I'm changing the rules," Craig said.

"No," Tweek said again. "Unless."

"Unless?" Craig asked, ready to do about anything Tweek asked for.

"You can fuck me against the window," Tweek said, hips hitching.

The window he was referring to was the one in the living room, the one that overlooked the actual campus. The path wasn't much-used, but they saw people on it regularly.

"They'd expel us," Craig said, even though he wanted to do this quite badly. His cock throbbed, reminding him.

"You said everybody knows I'm your fuck toy," Tweek said, talking low. "So what do they care, huh? Just the usual, right? Just taking care of business." He reached down to palm at his cock while he talked, and Craig sunk to his knees in front of him. "That's all I'm here for. Just—my holes, for you. I might as well follow you around all day and never take your cock from my mouth. Nobody would even notice the difference."

"Fuck," Craig said, trying and failing to come up with a response for that. Instead he leaned over and kissed Tweek, sucking his tongue into his mouth so he couldn't say anything more. He couldn't fuck Tweek against the window, not really, people would be on the paths and they'd be arrested, expelled, but he  _could_ kiss him hard against this door. He moved his head from Tweek's mouth to his neck, and then his chest, briefly visiting Tweek's pert pink little nipples before arriving at his cock. But that wasn't his destination; Craig pulled Tweek forward, put his legs up on his shoulders and met Tweek's ass. It was still gaping a bit from the early prep work, and Craig kissed around the rim, gently, licking as he went. Tweek patted Craig's head three times.

He continued to lick in circles, closer and closer, while he kept Tweek's legs in place with one hand and used the other to finger him some more. He wanted Tweek to come just from this, wanted him to come in Craig's hair. He knew he could, he knew he  _would_ , and he was well on his way when they heard footsteps in the hallway. Craig kissed Tweek's ass gently again before withdrawing.

"Quickly," Craig said, tugging at Tweek as he scrambled up. "Get up here. Now."

Tweek nodded and stood. Craig looked out the peephole; their neighbor from down the hall was leaving. Craig kept his eye on her as he hoisted Tweek up, let him wrap his legs around Craig's waist, and thrust in.

" _Fuck_!" Tweek shouted. Their neighbor stopped and looked towards their apartment confusedly. "Fuck--Craig! _Jesus."_

"Yes," Craig said, satisfied. He snapped inside of Tweek, fucking him as hard as he could. Tweek's scream escalated— _fuck, yes, Craig_ , and various combinations thereof. Craig groaned and watched as the neighbor's face turned to disgust, as she shook her head, and as she went on her way.

"I fucking love you," Craig said, gripping Tweek's ass as hard as he could. Tweek yelped and scrambled to claw at Craig's back. "Love you so fucking much. Love  _fucking_ you so much. The—the fucking best ever—like I bought you, like you're a fucking sex doll, like you were made for me, you're mine, you're  _mine_." He said this all in Tweek's ear and then sucked his earlobe between his teeth, closing his eyes and leaning into every sensation, every fiery nerve.

Tweek came before Craig did, screaming in one long howl, and Craig hurried to kiss him, to swallow  _that_ scream at least. That, Craig felt for some reason, was  _private_. Tweek's flexing finally pushed Craig over the edge, and he pumped more than he could ever remember, balls draining and feeling like they'd been full for years. He kept going longer than he should, oversensitive and overstimulated, and nearly dropped Tweek as he himself started to twitch.

Tweek went to take his shaking legs from Craig's waist but Craig stopped him. Layers of arousal peeling back, that buried part of his brain reminded him of something, of the most important part. He held Tweek gently and took him to the couch, laying down and wrapping the blanket on Craig's shoulders around him. Craig took his shirt off, since Tweek had come on it, and then he sat down next to Tweek, pulling him close and rubbing his back.

"You did good," Craig said. Tweek nodded. "Does anything hurt?"

Tweek snorted. "My face," he said. Craig leaned back to look at him; there were two red hand marks, the second one darker than the first.

"Shit," Craig said. "Those—will those fade?"

"I think," Tweek sighed. "We'll Google it later."

"Okay." Craig pulled him into him. "That was okay?"

"More than okay," Tweek murmured. "I would have said something if it wasn't."

"Just making sure," Craig said. "Wanna lay down?"

"Yeah."

Craig laid down on his back on the couch and Tweek crawled up to him, as much on Craig as the space of their couch would allow. Chest-to-chest like this, Craig could feel how cold Tweek was. He tightened the blanket around them, leaving Tweek just enough space to breathe, and held him tight.

"'You're not just my little sex doll," Craig said, because the fact that he'd said that was sort of bothering him. He was sensitive, but he couldn't deny that his mind was stuck on the image of Tweek with the handprints on either side of his face, knowing that'd be material for his spank bank until the end of time.

Tweek laughed again, patting Craig's chest. "I love it when you say things like that to me," he said. "It gives me, like. A sense of purpose."

"I know. I love you."

"Don't go," Tweek's voice was growing progressively more tired as the conversation went on.

"I would never." Craig kissed the top of Tweek's head. "How are you feeling?"

"Calmed down," Tweek said, laughing just the tiniest bit into Craig's chest. Craig knew he was close to sleep, and Craig could barely keep his eyes open himself. "The stupid fucking bullshit therapist list—it worked."

Craig laughed, too, smoothing Tweek's hair. "I love you," he said again.

"I love you, too, Craig. Love you so much."

"You gonna sleep?"

"Yeah." Tweek burrowed in just slightly more against Craig's chest. Craig's upper chest and neck were cold, but that was okay, because Tweek was starting to warm up.

"Okay. Me too."

When they would wake up, they'd order a late dinner of pizza. When they turned on the television and Tweek saw that it was on the weather channel, he'd make fun of Craig. They'd have sex again before they went to sleep, usual, vanilla sex, warming each other up before bed. Craig would tell Tweek about the neighbor he'd seen in the hall, and every time they saw her from then on, they'd turn red and try not to laugh at the same time.


End file.
